


Danny & Jackson

by FlyAwayMeow (rjaejoo)



Series: Breeders, Inc. [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, Humor, Knotting, M/M, Omega Danny, Omega Isaac, Omega Jackson, Owner Lydia, Owner Stiles, Threesome - M/M/M, Werewolf Breeding, jealous Parrish, m-preg, omega jordan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjaejoo/pseuds/FlyAwayMeow
Summary: Stiles suddenly acquires a new pet, and the playdate between Derek, Jackson and Danny goes better and worse than what Stiles was expecting.





	

Stiles is feeling oddly anxious for this afternoon’s playdate between Jackson, Danny, and Derek. He’s not exactly sure why; he’s already secured his breeding credentials with his latest breeding of the Carver twins and the McCall bitch. Whitmore and Mahealani would be an excellent addition, but not a necessary one. Stiles figures if worst comes to worst, he’ll maybe get a stud service for Danny. Honestly, he’s not counting too much on having success with Jackson.

As he morosely ponders the potential disasters that may arise later in the day, a growl from Derek alerts him right before he hears a car pull up outside. Puzzled he heads to the door and opens it to see his dad leading Parrish from the back of his squad car while clutching a _fire extinguisher?_ Stiles squints at the man in confusion.

“Dad?” he asks puzzled. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

Sheriff Stilinski looks haggard and weary. He stops in front of his only kid and thrusts out Parrish’s lead into his chest, letting the fire extinguisher fall to the ground between them. Stiles yelps in surprise as it bounces off the tip of his shoe. “Congrats kid, you’re the proud new owner of a hellhound,” the sheriff says grimly.

Stiles gawps at his dad. “I’m sorry, I’m what?” he demands incredulously.

“Proud owner,” the sheriff says slowly. “Here,” he pushes the lead against Stiles’ hand and when Stiles’ neglects to take the lead, he hooks it around the man’s wrist.

“Wh—Why am I the proud owner? Not that I don’t want to be,” he hastily amends, “but seriously, aren’t there a shit ton of rules and regulations that say I’m not eligible?”

“Well son, when you stopped by last week and brought Derek, and he and Parrish had their little romantic rendezvous,” he says with a pointed look, “your stud knocked up our temporary hellhound and he’s been pining ever since.”

“Oh, umm...can’t you do anything about that? Wouldn’t he just get over it, or something?” Stiles asks with a stammer. “I can’t imagine why I’d be allowed to take him in.”

“Pining to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars worth of property damage,” the sheriff says tersely, “both local and federal. The government would rather you keep him and let us utilize him when necessary than incur any more debt.

“I’m sorry what? Tens of thousands?” he squeaks out in horror. “And you thought it would be good to bring him here? To my non-flame retardant home,” he gestures wildly behind him into the house, “that’s made of wood? Dad!”

The sheriff looks at Stiles unimpressed. “That’s what the fire extinguisher is for,” he explains as he nudges it with his foot.

Stiles looks down at his feet in horror and then to Parrish and again back to the fire extinguisher.

“Dad, Lydia Martin is bringing over her two omegas today for a playdate. Is there anywhere else we can keep him until—” Stiles yelps as the suddenly _burning_ hellhound shoves past, nearly yanking his arm out of his socket since Stiles is still attached by the lead. “Oh my God, no not in the house!” he yells frantically running after the hellhound.

Sheriff Stilinski scoops up the fire extinguisher and jogs after the two. When he rounds the corner he finds his son holding his face, staring in dismay. Parrish is lounging on the extra were bed and it's definitely smoldering, lead lying forlornly trailing from his harness to the floor. “Here, you’re going to need this son,” the man says helpfully as he hands off the extinguisher. “Don’t worry, Deaton thinks that Parrish should be okay as long as he’s with Derek,” he explains with a nod of his head.

Stiles clutches it to his chest. Isaac is grumbling quietly in the corner from his bed and Derek is edging over to the hellhound. He gives the omega a sniff and a nuzzle before turning around to look at the two humans, his eyes doing an impressive little dance of confusion. Parrish reaches over and hooks a hand around the alpha and yanks him backward, causing the stud to fall. The hellhound wrestles the were until he’s underneath and sprawls himself across the stud, pointedly staring back at the two men in challenge.

Stiles shakes his head, muttering, “Fuck my life,” under his breath. The sheriff claps him on the shoulder with a smirk.

 

*****

 

When Lydia arrives, everything goes better and worse than Stiles was expecting. It looks like it’s not so much Jackson that’s the problem as it is Parrish who keeps flaming in jealousy whenever the Whitmore bitch gets too close to Derek. Poor Derek is backed into a corner wearily eyeing the hellhound that has him trapped. Danny isn’t even going there, instead opting to share a bed with an unimpressed Isaac in the corner.

Stiles winces as yet another singe mark appears on his hardwood floor. The rug will have to be trashed as there’s no way of salvaging it. One pillow is covered in flame retardant foam under the coffee table and the copy of The Hobbit he was reading last night now lies in a pathetic smoldering pile of ash off to the side. And Lydia, Lydia is calmly sitting in the overstuffed chair scrolling through her phone doing God knows what. Stiles looks mournfully at his ruined living room. Oddly enough the were bed is still intact. Stiles shakes his head and decides not to even go there trying to figure out the logistics of how that’s even possible.

“Seriously Stilinski, what the fuck did you think was going to happen when you took in a hellhound?” Lydia says in exasperation.

Stiles groans. “Oh just about like this,” he snarks back. “Besides I didn’t choose to take him in. My dad dropped him off with a fire extinguisher and wished me luck,” he mutters. “Before I knew it, Parrish had made himself at home and dad was spinning his wheels as he waved out his window gleefully yelling goodbye,” he continues resentfully.

A noise draws their attention and when the owners look over, they see Parrish’s flame level amp up. “No! No! Absolutely not, stay away from my couch!” Stiles shouts frantically waving the extinguisher wildly. “I love that couch! You will not set that couch on fire!” he shrieks.

Parrish stumbles to a halt and Stiles stops too. It’s completely silent and everyone is looking at him. He points his finger at the hellhound, “Be nice, or you don’t get to stay,” he states firmly.

There’s a rough snort behind him. “Oh my God, you are so pathetic,” Lydia snipes. She stands up and walks over. “Parrish, knock it off. I don’t have time for your jealous insecurities,” she informs the hellhound. “I’m on a schedule and you’re holding me up. I’m starting to get annoyed and as much as I think Stilinski needs to redecorate, burning the place down around us is not the way to go.” Muttering under her breath she continues, “Though burning it down might be an improvement.”

Stiles stares at her wide-eyed before looking back to see Parrish meekly going over to the were bed and lying down. Stiles looks back at Lydia and breathes, “I love you. Marry me please.”

Lydia flips her hair and smirks. She turns back to Derek and raises a brow at the were. “Well chop chop,” she says with a clap of her hands. “I wasn’t joking, I really am on a schedule.” Then the woman spins on her heels and strides back to the chair where she immerses herself back in her phone.

Derek looks cautiously at the hellhound who is pouting and Stiles thinks that’s kind of adorable. Not flaming damage excusable adorable, but still a little adorable. Jackson huffs a breath and walks over to Derek, butting his head against the alpha before rubbing his head along the alpha’s shoulder, along his side and then down to his ass. When he gets there, he nudges his head between the alpha’s legs, nosing at the cock. Derek gives a low rumble of approval, moving his legs further apart so the omega has better access.

Stiles sits down heavily on his couch still clutching the fire extinguisher. He just wants this day to end.

 

*****

 

Ironically it’s Jackson who pursues Derek and at one point Danny joins in and the two have the alpha pinned between them. It doesn’t take Derek long before the alpha gets on board, or in this case on top of Jackson. Lydia purses her lips as her very very vocal omega is serviced. Stiles just sits there numbly. There’s no saving today, he thinks blankly as he zones out with a sigh, not even noticing he’s staring at his stud and Jackson enthusiastic copulating.

A discreet little cough draws him out of his reverie and when he looks up Lydia asks, “Enjoying the show?”

“Um, uh, what?” he asks in confusion. When he looks to where she’s tilting her head towards, he sees his stud in a threesome. Okay then, so no question of them liking each other he thinks. “Yay! Go, Derek,” he mumbles under his breath. His brain is slow to catch on, but that is yet an even bigger mess he has on his hands to clean up now, he thinks tiredly as a red vase topples off a nearby table and breaks.

“Mr. Stilinski, how shall we do this? Shall I leave my weres here to finish out the evening or shall I bring them back again tomorrow for them to continue?” Lydia asks. “Also, I believe there are two contracts I need to sign,” she says pointedly at the other owner.

“Er, what?” he asks in confusion. “I don’t charge for playdates. Those are free.”

“Be that as it may, Mr. Stilinski, both my omegas were in pre-heat yesterday and showed signs of entering full blown heat today. It’s part of the reason why I wanted to come this week. I was hoping it would make Jackson more amiable.” She turns to look at her bitch who is now grinding backward into the alpha while her other bitch has his face stuck between the alpha’s ass cheeks. There are copious amounts of come all over the floor she thinks with a scrunch of her nose. Honestly, the hellhound would be doing them all a favor if he burned the place down. She turns back to look at the man. “How about I leave the two of them here tonight. I’ll call you in the morning to check up on them. I’ll sign the contracts when I come to pick them up. Does that sound good for you?”

Stiles slowly nods his head. “Yeah, sure, that works I guess,” he agrees with a tired sigh. He zones back out to scene in front of him.

 

*****

 

When Stiles wakes up the next morning, he’s sweating. It feels like he’s in a sauna and when he cracks his eyes open, it’s to find Parrish sprawled across his chest. The hellhound is making little snuffling noises in his sleep. Stiles reaches up to carefully card his hand through the hellhound’s hair. He’s hoping his bedding is still okay but admits to himself that if it suddenly caught fire he’d be okay getting something new. You know, as long as the mattress survives. He’s due for a replacement or as Lydia would say, an upgrade, anyways.

With a sigh, he tries to nudge Parrish aside. All he gets is a little grumble of protest. It takes him nearly ten minutes to move the hellhound off of him and by the end, Stiles is feeling sticky and gross. Parrish doesn’t even awaken, instead, he rolls over and curls himself around Isaac. Stiles stumbles out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. Once he finishes taking a piss and brushing his teeth, freshening up as much as possible without a shower, he heads down to the breeding room to check up on the other three. He refuses to look in the living room. His blood pressure can’t take it at the moment. It was bad enough it took multiple rounds of moping last night and every time he thought he was done cleaning he’d find more come. At one point he wondered if they were playing a game to see how far they could shoot it or better yet in what weird place they could land it. He shakes his head grimly at the memories.

When Stiles gets to the breeding room and opens the door, he finds Danny moaning under Derek. Both of the weres are sporting epic sex hair and they will definitely need baths. He looks around to find Jackson, finally spotting the other bitch on one of the beds in the corner. The omega is swollen, lying on his back on full display. There are streaks of dried come all over his body. As if sensing he’s being watched the omega cracks his eye open. Upon seeing a human standing there that isn’t his owner, he rolls over and gives the man his back. There are smears all along his ass, and Stiles has a pretty clear view of the were’s gaping hole. Derek must have just finished before he came it.

A whimper from behind has him turning around to see Derek breaking away from Danny. The omega stumbles a moment before getting his bearings. Derek heads back over to Jackson nosing at the bitch’s hole when he gets there. He pushes at the omega, and when Jackson rolls onto his stomach the alpha straddles him, lowering his hips until his cock catches the omega’s rim. Once caught, the alpha thrusts in, causing the omega to whine softly. A short time later, they've tied together again. Stiles takes it as his cue to leave and go gather breakfast. At least he doesn’t have to worry about pups not resulting. Both omegas are swollen, proving that Derek has been very diligent in his duties as a prized stud. Now if only his diligence hadn’t spread to a full day of deep cleaning of the house, Stiles would feel better.

 

*****

 

When Sheriff Stilinski stops by later that evening after his shift is over, it’s to find his son sprawled across his couch cradling the fire extinguisher to his chest. He’s pointing the nozzle in Parrish’s direction and every time the hellhound goes to move off the were bed, Stiles makes a noise and threateningly waves the hose in Parrish’s direction. The hound just lies back down and gives big puppy eyes to Stiles. As the sheriff looks around he takes note of the serious lack of things that are no longer in the room. The ugly area rug, various knick knacks, and the red vase that used to sit on the end table are all missing. Looks like a few pillows and a throw or two are no longer in the room either.

“So son, I see you’ve done some redecorating,” he says in amusement.

Stiles scowls at his dad. “Har har, very funny.”

“How did the visit with Miss. Martin go?” he asks kindly to change the subject.

Stiles looks back at his dad. “Fine,” he says flatly. “Pretty positive both pupped, we’ll know for sure in two weeks or so,” he says with a shrug. “Have a seat dad, take a load off,” he suggests with a wave of the fire extinguisher at the overstuffed chair.

As the sheriff makes himself comfortable, Isaac wanders in and noses at the sheriff’s knee for a scratch. The sheriff pets the pregnant were, making sure to hit all his favorite spots. The blonde bitch rumbles in happiness, nudging further into the sheriff’s touch before trying to slink his way into the man’s lap. After a moment of gentle struggle, the man gives up and leans back to give the were more room. Isaac happily makes himself comfortable, happy rumbling escaping him.

“Where’s Derek?” the sheriff asks as he continues to run his hands carefully through Isaac’s curls.

“In time out,” Stiles says stoutly.

His dad raises his eyebrows at this, and when Stiles doesn’t elaborate, he asks why.

“Because only half of the mess was from Parrish. The rest was from Derek’s very _enthusiastic_ threesome. I spent the better part of the day cleaning up copious amounts of come,” he continues tiredly. The sheriff wrinkles his nose at this statement.

“When I took the beds in to have them cleaned, Erica laughed in my face. She ordered me new ones and said she wouldn’t charge extra for the stain repellent and flame retardant to be added on,” he says. “Said I looked so pathetic she couldn’t not feel bad for me. At least she was nice enough to let me use her dumpster to dispose of them,” he mutters.

The sheriff makes an agreeing noise from his chair. “Well, that’s good at least. How’s Parrish holding up? I see you’ve got him a bed,” he says while looking at the very sad looking hellhound.

“Parrish is fine. Other than flaming in jealousy of Jackson and burning various possessions of mine,” he admits. “Feels like I’m sleeping with the sun, though. Won’t need to worry about the heat in the winter,” he says thoughtfully.

“Wait, he sleeps with you?” the sheriff boggles at his son.

“Well it’s not like I can stop him,” Stiles admits. I kenneled him last night and I even double checked up on him before going to bed. When I woke up this morning, he was using me as his very own personal human pillow. He’s a cuddler by the way, in case you were wondering,” he adds absentmindedly.

“Duly noted,” the sheriff murmurs with a nod of his head.

A low whine and a scratching noise come from the back of the house. “I swear to God, Derek, if you damage the wood, I’m locking you in a cock cage for the next month,” his owner yells in frustration. The noise ceases immediately.

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think son?” the sheriff says with slight disapproval.

“Copious amounts of come dad. Copious amounts,” the man stresses grimly in reminder, clutching the extinguisher tightly to his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> *Hellhounds "flame" during high emotions. In this instance, jealousy.  
> **Hellhounds and weres pine and in the case of Parrish results in flaming. Stiles will have to register and go through various hoops to paperwork to keep Parrish permanently, but with the sheriff as a respected man and his father, they're making some exceptions to how quickly Parrish goes into Stiles custody. The continuous property damage at taxpayers expense helps that along as well.


End file.
